I Lost My Engagement Ring

I’m not sure what the lesson to learn is yet, and I’m still hopeful that I’ll find it, but I am trying to find deeper meaning to my losing my engagement ring, other than I need to slow down and be more present so I don’t misplace my belongings. Maybe that is the lesson, and it’s as simple as that, but it also could be symbolic for something bigger. Perhaps, it is time for me to let go of something and make room for something or someone else. I don’t think it’s that, but, I think, the romantic part of me wants to think it’s that- I lost my engagement ring because because the girl who never wants to get married or have kids will be given an engagement ring by the man of her dreams, who she is not sure exists and is pretty sure he doesn’t.

I’ll take it as a sign to let go, maybe even be a little less self-absorbed… I haven’t been letting go. On the contrary, I’ve been holding on tightly to everything- my anger, my frustration, my sadness, my depression, my self-pity, and my self-will, and I see it is no longer serving me . The ring, on the other hand, is still serving me and has served as a constant physical reminder to put myself first. It’s a bit of a ritual- I put it on every day and feel safe, protected, and loved. Losing it hurts, but I’m hopeful it will find its way back to me in some unexpected way.

So letting go- I haven’t written on this blog in a long time because I think I’ve been afraid to let go and felt unsure and afraid of what to share. This blog is a dating blog after all, and I didn’t feel ready to air my dirty laundry.

Last night, I was wired and did not whine down for bed until 2am, which is unusual for me- it may have been runner’s high, my brain moving a mile a minute, feeling inspired, feeling anxious, and/or not being able to shut it all down last night. I ripped my apartment apart looking for my ring to no avail. I looked under pillow cushions, in shoes, in boxes, and in places it would never be- all to no avail. Then, I had the brilliant notion at 2am that I should dig through my trash, which I had put outside Monday morning, and here it was Wednesday night and I still had not taken it to the dumpster so I thought maybe this was a sign. I convinced myself that on Monday night when I chopped an onion and garlic perhaps I had taken my ring off, placed it on the counter, and then covered it with onion and garlic peel and discarded it into my trash can that was sitting outside my door. Because I’m not as crazy as I look, I decided not to dump my trash on my door step at 2am in the dark to sift through trash in hopes of finding my ring- instead, I waited until morning.

I got up, hair tousled all over the place, grabbed my rubber gloves, and brought my trash to the dumpster, where I proceeded to sift through 3 days of garbage- banana peels, orange peels, tops to cans, chicken bones, olive pits- the works! I went through every piece of onion and garlic and nada. This was a bit disheartening as this now meant I did not throw it out and either of my two other theories might be true.

It is in my apartment. I took it off my hand on Monday night when I got home and was not mindful of where I set it down.

It’s not in my apartment and either fell off my hand unbeknownst to me or I threw it out the window of my car with an orange peel.

So, how does any of this have to do with dating? Just wait… so after I squatted with my tousled hair and rubber gloves next to the dumpster going through every piece of trash I had thrown out in the last 3 days, I got up, put everything back in the garbage bag, tossed it in the dumpster, and dusted myself off.

I then walked over to the Leasing Office to pay my rent and check my mail. I had a coupon card for Pink… and a letter from a boy* who shall remain nameless. (*he is a boy- one of my many revelations has been that I date boys, not men and that needs to change.)

This boy is a boy I dated for about 4 months. We never had “the talk” and made it official or anything, but I don’t think either of us saw other people for the majority of that time. Anyways, he wrote me a hand written letter on Thanksgiving day in response to my mailing him a package returning his books and giving him pictures from a meaningful event we went to for one of his friends, at which I had taken a lot of pictures, none of which I was in, as I knew it was a momentous day for him and his best friend from high school. He thanked me for my kindness and apologized for not being able to the “the guy*” (*notice, he didn’t even call himself a “man”) I wanted him to be, which was interesting because I did not try to change him. I told him he was not what I wanted and accepted him for who he was, but knew he was not the guy for me.

I think that in it of itself is a bit of a miracle and something my engagement ring symbolically helped me to achieve. I put myself, my desires, and my needs first. For the most part, I did not try to “fix” him or change him. I knew in my gut he would not change and was not the MAN I wanted.

So, I still don’t know the lesson I’m to learn from losing my engagement ring is, but I am sure…. more will be revealed…